Amanda Filipacchi

I am a man without many pleasures in life, a man whose few pleasures are small, but a man whose small pleasures are very important to him. One of them is eating. One reading. Another eating while reading.

His body was now very close to hers, and he dared to bring his hand under her skirt.
“Where is your underwear?” he asked.
“I lost it.”
“Where?”
“In the garden. It fell off when I was spying. I didn’t have time to retrieve it.”